signed the pledge and is my
firm friend. I chased him out of a public-house last night, and made
him come home to my lodgings with me, where I gave him coffee, and sang
songs to him. He followed all my movements with the big wistful eyes
of a dog. There were tears in those eyes when he bade me good-night.
He brushed them away with a dirty hand, and said, "I know I can keep
straight now, sir, because you are my pal, and I ain't a-going against
the wishes of my pal!" This morning he left a pineapple at the door
for me--he is a coster, and pineapples are cheap just now. I felt more
pleasure than I can say; I could have sung over my work all day, so
glad was I. My dear fellow, don't think I speak pharisaically--you
know me too well; but I do believe I got more genuine pleasure out of
my experience with this rough fellow than you will ever get out of your
sunsets. Lucraft's Row is a dull place enough, but when a ray of light
does shine into it, it brings with it more than common joy.

'My objection to your new mode of life is that it is entirely
self-centred. There is no projection of yourself into other lives.
You are contributing nothing to the common stock of moral effort. You
are simply marooned. It alters nothing that you have marooned yourself
under conditions that please and content you. I think that if I were
marooned upon the fairest island of the Southern Seas, where I had but
to bask in the sunshine and stretch out my hand to find delightful
food, there would be still something in my lot which I should find
intolerable. I should spend my days upon the island's loftiest crag,
watching for a sail. The thought of a thousand ships not far away,
rushing round the globe, with throb of piston, crack of cordage, strain
of timber, buffeting of waves, and shouting crews, would drive me
distracted. What to me were blue skies and soft winds when I might be
sharer in this elemental strife? How should I covet, in all this
adorable and detested beauty of my solitary isle, the grey skies that
looked on human effort, the violent wind, the roaring waves, the
muscles cracking at the capstan, the strong exhilaration of peril,
effort, conflict, and the glory of hourly contiguity with death! It
was so Ulysses felt:

How dull it is to pause, to make an end,
To rust unburnished, not to shine in use.

It was so he resolved

To follow knowledge like a sinking star,
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T